Page 87 of The Moment Promised

“Hey! Don’t you fucking ignore me. I’m your dad!” he shouts.

My nervous system remembers his voice, it knows exactly how to make my hands sweat and my body tremble, but I swallow the fear down. I just need to get to my mom.

I push open my mother’s door. There are hints of Jason in every corner—his clothes sprawled out on the nightstand; the right side of the bed isn’t tucked in neatly like it has been the past four years. I walk further in. With no sign of my mother, I check her bathroom.

While I don’t find her, I do find a second toothbrush lying on the counter, which is dirtied by smears of toothpaste and tiny black shavings in her once clean sink. I spin around to continue my search but run straight into Jason’s chest. I recoil. His arms are spread on either side of him, blocking the exit.

“Move.” My voice almost shakes, but I force it to stay steady. I will not show him weakness. Never again.

But he doesn’t budge. “My own blood isn’t going to disrespect me like this, you hear me? I come home after all these years and get your mom out of that horrendous place and you don’t even thank me?”

“I will never be grateful to you as long as I breathe on this earth. Move.”

His eyes shift from anger to confusion to pure rage.

I stand tall and unwavering.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” He puffs out his chest like an animal.

“You have one second.” I cross my arms, mock checking my watch, and then say, “One.” My knee makes abrupt contact to his crotch.

The tough guy façade tumbles the second he barrels over in pain. He breathlessly mutters, “Fuck.”

I step over him, out of my mother’s room, and back into the hallway. I ignore him groaning in pain, and any other day I’d take full delight in what just happened, and later I probably will. But the image of my mother passed out with a bottle of liquor and no pulse haunts the bliss away.

I freeze in place at her voice.

“Honey, I’m home,” my mother sings in delight, the front door slamming shut.

I make my way downstairs, seeing my mother dressed to the nines. Her hair is styled, she wears a designer dress that is casual but screamsI’m rich. The cherry on top is the designer bag that probably costs more than any college tuition. I clear my throat and finally catch her attention.

She gently places her bag on the nearest surface before squealing and wrapping me up in a tight embrace, something I am completely and utterlyunfamiliar with.

“Oh, honey! You’re finally home, look who’s here,” she coos, as if she just came back from vacation and brought me back anexquisite souvenir. It’s only been three weeks… How is she out of rehab?

She turns me around. My eyes lock with Jason’s and bile rises in my throat. I look him square in the eyes. He glares at me like I’m the gum on the bottom of his shoe.

I turn around, not wanting to waste any more time on him. My anxiety skyrockets by having my back toward him. I assess my mother from head to toe. I hear Jason mumbling something about me being ungrateful. Something about shipping me off to boarding school. He doesn’t realize I’m nineteen, way past boarding school age.

But if my mother is spiraling, she doesn’t display it. Her nails are freshly painted, she doesn’t smell like alcohol or vomit, and she’s even wearing lipstick. The only give is the purple rings of exhaustion beneath her eyes.

Why would she let Jason back into our lives with a smile on her face? It just doesn’t add up. I glance at her attire; she’s wearing a turtleneck. I’ve never seen her wear a turtleneck in my life.

“I need to talk to you, Mom.”

“Anything you say to me you can say in front of your dad, sweetie.” She uses her old voice, the one she used as battle armer. To walk upon eggshells so they wouldn’t shatter.

If I didn’t just hear Finn’s car door slam shut, I would’ve corrected her. Explained that the man who stands behind me is no more than a sperm donor. Instead, the front door opens and closes.

I step out of my mother’s embrace and into Finn’s. I whisper a quick, “I’m okay,” but his worry doesn’t disappear.

“You have some fucking nerve on you, kid.” Jason walks completely down the stairs and passes my mom. He heads straight toward us. I step in front of Finn before he can lay a hand on him.

Finn doesn’t say anything to my father, no handshake, no casual small talk. I respect Finn’s disrespect.

“You take my daughter all the way across the fucking country—” Jason begins his rant. His face turns red, and he foams at the corner of his mouth like an animal.

“Out of state,” Finn interrupts.

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